A poem written by anon that graphically describes a fractured relationship between a daughter and her mother. The pressure to be perfect, the feeling that their love is conditions based, and the revelation that had it not been for the grandchildren the relationship would have ended, all resulting in an emotional and literal stalemate.
Another year and another BritMums – the “UK’s biggest, buzziest blogging and social media conference” – has come and gone. Except this year it’s not BritMums Live; it’s gone through a bit of a rebranding in order to modernise itself (save on twitter characters) and also make it seem less exclusive to Mums. This year it was #BML16. This was my second conference, but unfortunately it will be my last, and here’s why.
My kids get bored very easily but they react to the boredom very differently. Olivia will tend to just sit in silence, or cuddle up to me and let the time drift away. George becomes agitated, energetic, hyperactive, craves attention, demands inspiration and becomes all consuming. There are a few things that seem to appease my kids when boredom begins to set in, these are their top 5.
The first time I parented solo it was brilliant. Vikki had gone on holiday, I had taken a week off work, and I knew exactly how long I would need to parent solo for. No matter how difficult things got, I knew reinforcements would arrive in a few short days. Me and the kids had fun, I had time and the patience to complete chores, and I was able to think every time I needed to react to the kids’ behaviour. If that was the Ying, then the situation I find myself in now would most definitely be the Yang.
It’s been no secret that it’s taken longer for me to bond with him than it did my daughter, at one point I even regretted ever conceiving him! It wasn’t until I realised that I was merely reflecting my own issues onto him and using him as an excuse for my feelings that I learned how to love him. So for his fourth birthday, here are four things I’ve realised I had to change about myself.
For as long as I can remember I’ve had an utterly terrible relationship with food. Like the girl who constantly runs back to the bad boy despite knowing he’s no good for her, I am the bloke who keeps going back to processed, unhealthy, rubbish. I know it’s bad for me, I know it doesn’t love me back and I damn well know it will not help me achieve my goals, so why do I keep succumbing to it’s trans-fatty, sugary sweetness!
I read a brilliant poem by @nortonmum about mothers being the glue that keeps families together. It’s not the first poem that I’ve read of hers on her blog www.theuncheshirewife.com and I am constantly impressed by how easy she makes it appear to write great poetry. After writing about my decision to stay in the Army and speaking to my daughter over FaceTime for no reason whatsoever 2 lines that rhymed popped into my head. Before you know it I had written a few more lines until I had what resembled an extremely amateurish poem. (by poem I mean a lot of words where every other line rhymes, I didn’t realise that there were so many words that could rhyme with say or way!) Well, after writing it and a few tears, I thought I would put it here.
This post is probably going to divide opinion. Some will find what I’m about to say shocking, some will criticise me for being so negative, some will tell me to grow up but for some, I might just strike a chord of recognition. Whichever way you lean, please take a deep look at your lives and ask yourself honestly, is there anything that you would change if you could? And if you would, have you ever regretted that you didn’t get it right first time and has it ever crossed your mind what your life would have looked like if you had?
There’s nothing worse when you’re in a relationship than seeing those couples who outwardly seem like they have everything. They openly show affection to one another, they seem to know subliminally what the other is thinking, they are always laughing joking, but also strike the right balance of passion and endearment. Quite frankly they make … [Read more…]
On the way back from The Dad Network Live event today I decided to treat myself to a McDonald’s, on my own. At least I was saved the embarrassment of having to ask for a table for one! The place was filled with families, some were your typical 2.4 children with mum and dad, others were just mums and their offspring, but amongst them was a dad (let’s call him Mr Man) with his young daughter (Little Miss); she must have been two bordering on three years of age. Sat on the table beside him was a lady in what looked to be her mid-sixties (Helicopter Stranger), I don’t know she may have aged horribly or been a 90 year old blessed with youthful appearance, it matters not. What fascinated me was how she conducted herself throughout the duration of this Mr Man and Little Miss’ meal. I sat pondering how I would have dealt with it, decided that I would have behaved exactly the same way he did and then in typical British fashion, complained about it later at home.